The Road Not Taken
by barnowl1726
Summary: Hogwarts has a new History of Magic teacher who wastes no time stirring up trouble and catching the eye of a Professor Harry Potter  Assumed alternate ending to book 7
1. Chapter 1

Obviously, I own nothing you recognize from the books. Enjoy!

_Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,_

_And sorry I could not travel both_

_And be one traveler, long I stood_

_And looked down one as far as I could_

_To where it bent in the undergrowt__h…_

CH. 1

"Look- I'm sorry- I just really can't give you a better- explanation than the one- I've already given you." I panted through the phone as I sprinted through the train station, weaving between slower travelers, even jumping over a few suitcases, Richard padding faithfully behind me. My eyes darted up to the clock, the minute hand was creeping dangerously close to striking 11:00, I wracked my brain for a memory of that clock every being fast, or that train ever not leaving exactly on time.

"Explanation? Oh, you mean the _sticky note_ I found _on the fridge_ this morning saying 'Had to leave for a while, see you at Christmas'? That IS NOT an explanation!" my boyfriend exploded through the phone, his exceptionally calm demeanor beginning to break down.

I sighed, coming to a stop now in front of the barrier to platform 9 ¾, looking up at the clock again I saw that I only had two minutes to make my train, I began to pace anxiously waiting for the crowd to clear long enough for me to pass through the wall unnoticed.

"Jake," I started, I couldn't blame him of course, it was by no means an explanation, and, in retrospect, a sticky note was probably not the most sensitive medium through which to alert him of my four-month absence. But what was I supposed to tell him? _"Sorry Jake, my grandmother runs a boarding school for wizards and as of 36 hours ago they are in desperate need of a History of Magic professor because the ghost who used to teach the subject finally decided to 'move on'"_? Not likely.

"Trust me, I would love nothing more than to give you a real explanation but..." I felt Richard tug gently at my sleeve, he whined anxiously, looking around I saw the coast was clear. "Oh, can I call you right back? I promise, right back, just 30 seconds, I have to go through a-" I fumbled, " a tunnel." I hung up before he could protest.

"Ready, Rich?" I asked, looking down at my companion, a Deerhound I'd met in Scotland, or so I'd thought then, in time he proved to be far more unique than I could have ever imagined. His dark brown eyes returned my gaze affectionately, he inclined his head towards the barrier in an "after you," gesture. I took a deep breath and began walking confidently towards the wall, but as the wall got closer it seemed to become more solid, and doubt began to bubble up inside of me. _It's been such a long time,_ I thought to myself, and quickly decided it best to take the last few steps at a jog. My eyes closed instinctively, part of me still bracing for impact, but then, just as I remembered, my skin tingled for a few moments and I was through, just as the final call was being made. Richard, obviously a bit unsure himself, had taken the barrier at a run and landed abruptly at my side, then shook himself as if trying to shake water from his coat.

"You goof," I laughed, ruffling the hair between his ears, "come on, we'll just barely make it."

Having arrived so late, of course, there were no empty compartments. The prospect of sharing a compartment with a handful of my soon-to-be students didn't bother me so much, I had reading to do anyway, but at that age I'm sure my friends and I would have resented having to censor ourselves for hours, or worse, feel obligated to engage our professor in small talk. I cringed at the thought.

Just ahead of me Richard gave a soft, dignified sort of "woof" (the closest he ever came to a bark), I looked up to see him standing on his hind legs to peer through a window into a compartment. I came up next to him and peered in, just one occupant, a man too old to be a student, and, by the look of his worn briefcase, tweed jacket, and unwavering focus on today's Prophet, probably a professor.

"That'll do." I said to Rich, before knocking and sliding the compartment door open enough to peak my head in, the man looked up from his newspaper a bit startled.

"Hi there, mind if I join you?" But even before I could finish the question Richard had wiggled himself between me and the door and had begun sniffing the stranger's shoes excitedly.

"Richard! I'm so sorry, he's very friendly, too friendly even." I apologized and made to pull Richard away, but the man put up a hand and chuckled good-naturedly.

"No, no, it's fine, I love d- Oh!" Richard had suddenly put his front paws on the man's knees and had begun sniffing his face exuberantly, knocking his glasses off in the process.

"Richard! _Manners!_" I all but shrieked, mortified, I lunged forward and put both my arms around the massive dog's middle and pulled him off the man. "I am so sorry, he's not usually like this, I think he's just excited from traveling and being around a lot of people, he's sort of a country mouse." I sat down across from the man and Richard came to rest his head on my knee apologetically, I scratched behind his ears. I looked up to find the man staring at me curiously, with smiling green eyes. He looked down quickly and began rubbing his glasses clean with a red cloth he'd extracted from a pocket in his jacket. It was then I noticed his charmingly messy black hair, just beginning to grey at his temples, his strong jaw and well defined, characteristically masculine facial features. I smiled to myself, he was quite handsome.

Handsome.

Boyfriend.

"Shit," I hissed, pulling out my phone, which, to my great frustration was totally unresponsive, "No! I just charged you!" I muttered angrily, and then it dawned on me. "Right, I'd forgotten how annoying..." I began rummaging through my purse, which I had magically extended to function as a suitcase so as not to arouse the suspicions of my boyfriend while packing. "_Accio_ _wand_" I whispered, within moments I felt it in my hand. _Now what was that spell?_ _Oh yes..._

"_Magio sympatico,"_ I said while tapping my wand to my phone twice, immediately it turned back on and buzzed angrily, alerting me to five missed calls and eight new text messages. I groaned.

"That's one they don't teach us in school." said our companion, sounding thoroughly impressed.

"Yeah, well, it's hard enough to teach a class full of kids who can do magic, imagine if they all had iPhones too."

He laughed and opened his mouth to say something but I'd already put the phone to my ear, seeing the grim look on my face he quickly shut his mouth and pretended to look out the window.

"Hello." Jake picked up on the first ring, to compensate, his tone of voice was the hollow, forced- nonchalant timbre of a bruised male ego.

"I am so sorry, Jake, I got distracted, I almost missed my train and then there were no seats-" I rambled.

"Where are you?" He cut me off. I opened my mouth, and closed it. I wracked my brain for a lie I hadn't already used on him before. I looked around the compartment as if for a clue.

"Where am I?" I clarified, stalling for time to make something up. "I'm... on a train." I answered lamely. The man across from me snorted, I raised my eyebrows at him, he instantly became fascinated with the fabric of his jacket.

"Yeah, I gathered that," Jake said flatly, I heard him sigh, it broke my heart. But my hands were tied, the law prevented me from telling him anything until we're married. We'd been together for two years, it's not that I didn't see that for us in the future, in fact I would have married him right then over the phone if he'd asked, he just wasn't ready yet. I'd realized this wasn't for a lack of love or commitment towards me, he was just one of those rare men who thought through all of his actions meticulously and was never impulsive. Something I had come to admire and cherish about him.

"Remember... remember the last time I had to go away for a while and couldn't tell you much about it?" I tried hopefully.

"You mean that trip you took to Chicago to present a paper at that conference?" I cringed, he remembered the lie perfectly, it had actually been a trip to Scotland on an errand from the Ministry of Magic to translate a set of ancient inscriptions thought to have been written by an extinct race of proto-centaurs (previously thought to have not been capable of written language).

"Yeah, that one, it's just like that but I have to be gone longer..." I bit my lip, he deserved to know the whole truth, I couldn't tell him another lie, maybe just this once I could give him at least a little bit of the truth. "It's a teaching position, they needed someone last-minute, I owed the... Dean... a favor... sorry, that's really all I can say." _Probably more than I should say_, I thought bitterly. He sighed again, and the silence stretched on uncomfortably. I could almost hear him arranging and re arranging the words in his head, as if at a mental black board, writing, erasing, writing it another way.

"I trust you, and I knew what I was getting my self into, you warned me you'd have to be... cryptic sometimes. It's just... if something happened to you, and I didn't know where you were, how to get to you, who to ask... I just want to know that you're safe." He said finally, his words clenched painfully around my heart, _he is so patient_, I thought. "Just answer me one thing, and I promise I'll let it go." He said softly. I hesitated.

"I'll try my best." I said honestly. I suddenly became aware of how quiet the compartment was, I was sure Jake's voice must have been audible through the phone, I noticed Rich and the stranger were totally frozen in anticipation.

"Will you tell me someday?" His voice wasn't pleading, it wasn't an ultimatum, just a request. A knot of emotion constricted my throat, I had to swallow several times before I could answer.

"Someday, you'll know everything." I promised, but as soon as the words were out of my mouth I sensed I'd made a promise I might have to break. "Until then, I promise I'm safe... and if anything were to happen to me, I promise you'd be the first to know."

He was silent.

"Ok?" I prompted.

"Ok, I guess that'll do for now." He conceded. "Call me when you get.. wherever you're going?"

"Sure, but it'll be late, I'm in.. another time zone..." I hated myself.

"Fine, if I'm asleep just leave a message, let me know you're safe." He was silent for a few seconds. "Melinda, I love you." he said quietly.

"I love you, too, Jake. We'll talk soon." He ended the call, I let out a long breath and put my face in my hands. Richard pressed himself closer to me and licked my ear. I straightened up and began pulling my hair out of its bun and braiding it, just to have something to do. I glanced over at our companion who seemed to have become very interested in the tops of his shoes. I was so embarrassed, _he must think I'm such a spaz_, I quickly tried to think of something neutral to talk about.

"So are you a pr-"

"That must be r-"

The result was us both breaking the awkward silence, awkwardly, at exactly the same time. Then proceeded to awkwardly apologize and implore the other to go ahead, at exactly the same time.

"Really I insist, what were you saying?" I asked, laughing.

"Oh, well, I um.." he ran a hand through his hair nervously, and then hastily tried to make it lay flat, "I couldn't help but overhear... that must be rough, having a Muggle boyfriend, having to lie about everything." He tensed suddenly, "I mean, I- well, I assumed that was the situation- and not that you're a liar- I don't even know you- I mean..." he ran a hand back through his hair, consequently making him look even more hysterical.

"Calm down!" I laughed, he looked relieved that he hadn't caused the terrible offense he had imagined. "It was a bold assumption," I chided him playfully, he chanced a sheepish grin, "but an accurate one. I'm a terrible liar, so lucky for me he usually accepts the honest answer 'I can't tell you', he trusts me that I'm not having an affair so really he just worries that I'm off doing some kind of dangerous government work." I looked out the window wistfully, noticing the scenery for the first time, the rolling green expanse of the English country side. I could feel my companion watching me, I shifted uncomfortably and he could tell I was done with this subject.

"What were you going to say before?" He asked, I was puzzled at first before understanding what he was referring to.

"Oh! Yes. I was going to ask, are you a professor at Hogwarts?" I asked brightly, happy for a new subject.

"Yes, this will be my second year," he said proudly, "Defense against the Dark Arts." he added, "And you?"

"This is my first year, History of Magic." He smiled knowingly.

"That's right, I heard that Porfessor Binns finally, what did they call it?, 'moved on'" he chuckled, "about damn time."

"Did you have him as a teacher?" I asked, wanting to know more about my predecessor.

"Oh yeah, I think he'd been teaching there, as a ghost mind you, long before I was a student there, and he must have put in at least forty years while he was alive."

"He must have been quite an institution" I was feeling increasingly nervous about the shoes I was supposed to fill.

"Not exactly, as far as I know he only had one student ever who didn't sleep through every one of his classes." he laughed.

"Oh! Thank goodness, I'm not nearly as intimidated as I was before. But if he was so bad why didn't they just fire him?" I mused. He thought a moment and grinned.

"Can you fire a ghost?" we both thought a moment and laughed as the scene played out in our heads. We were still laughing when an elderly witch came by our compartment pushing a trolley of refreshments, we both purchased tea (and a pumpkin pastille for Richard) and resumed our conversation.

"Where did you go to school?" He asked, stirring sugar into his tea.

"Hemlock Academy, it's in Boston, Massachusetts. It's much smaller than Hogwarts, and it'd have to be," I smiled and stage whispered, "it's in the city's main public library."

"_In_ the library?" he asked incredulously

"Yep, _in_ the library. One floor of class rooms is the top floor of the library, which just looks like a museum to Muggles, and then there are five more floors above the library with dormitories and more class rooms, and one floor below the library. The Muggles have no idea." I laughed in earnest, it had never dawned on me just how funny this actually was. "Miranda Goshawk teaches there, that's our claim to fame." I added.

"Have you ever been to Hogwarts before?" he asked. I nodded,

"My grandmother used to teach there, I would visit on most Christmas holidays, now she's the headmistress." I answered casually, which caused him to choke on his tea.

"_McGonagall_ is your _grandmother_?" he sputtered, coughing, he studied my face as if trying to see a resemblance he'd missed before.

"Why is that so shocking?" I asked, amused.

"You know, she's just so," he searched for an adjective, "I mean it's just hard to imagine her like, like, a _grandmother_." The expression on his face begged for me to agree with him, I smiled knowingly.

"I can see that. She wouldn't want this to get out, but I assure you, she has a soft side."

"I won't tell a soul." He promised. Our eyes met for a moment and lingered another

moment. "I just realized, I never got your name," he said softly without breaking my gaze.

"Oh, my goodness!" I laughed, looking down, "I'm Melinda, Melinda McGonagall." I extended my hand. He laughed a bit at the gesture but took it firmly in his.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Harry. Harry Potter."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Just to clarify, for this story I've assumed that "McGonagall" was Minerva's married name, her son from that marriage (named Martin, though we probably won't meet him, at least not for some time) is Melinda's father. I realize this could get tricky with two "Prof McGonagalls" but a) I'm hoping it will occasionally provide for some comedy and b) well, that's my genealogy and I'm sticking to it! Also, I'm not even going to try to get the Hagrid-accent down like Rowling does- though I'm afraid he does come out sounding a bit Canadian in my version, I started typing and that's just what came out, I hope no one finds this too offensive.

I hope you enjoy, please don't hesitate to leave me a review, comments/suggestions are most welcome.

…**...**

…_.Then took the other, as just as fair,_

_And having perhaps the better claim_

_Because it was grassy and wanted wear;_

_Though as for that the passing there_

_Had worn them really about the same_

CH. 2

The castle was just as I remembered it from my holiday visits as a child; even though I'd grown considerably in body and mind since then it still possessed a grandeur that made me feel quite small. As I walked through the main entry towards the Great Hall (alone, Richard had gone to explore the grounds and the illusive Harry Potter had received a letter as soon as we got off the train that, with his apologies, required his 'immediate attention elsewhere'), I didn't necessarily feel dwarfed by its size, which is what my childhood memories had preserved best, but by the layers upon layers of magic that vibrated through the very stones in the walls. Something I had noticed (and perhaps my sense for it had become more acute from living, essentially, as a Muggle most of the time) working on archaeological digs, the "bio-accumulation", if you will, or imprint, left by centuries of magic in one place.

"My dear Melinda, the hero of the hour," the voice snapped me out of my reverie, I turned to see a severe looking woman striding towards me in billowing, emerald green robes. I don't believe she could be truly described as "elderly," though she was definitely getting along in years, she was as quick witted and sharp tongued as ever, the only apparent evidence of her age was in the lines of her face and the streaks of silver in her dark hair, which she wore in a most austere bun.

"Grandma!" she wrapped me in one of her uncharacteristically warm embraces.

"My, how you've grown," she held me out at arm's length to inspect me, "you look ever so much like your father," she smiled wistfully and motioned with her hand for me to turn, I laughed and obliged, turning slowly in place, "but, thankfully, you inherited your mother's grace, or else you would appear quite the tomboy." she added a bit reproachfully, eyeing my hastily braided hair, plain flannel button down shirt, and worn jeans tucked into boots that would most generously be described as practical. I rolled my eyes dramatically,

"Thank goodness for mom, wouldn't want anyone thinking that." I said sarcastically, then suddenly remembered, "Grandma, guess who I met on the train," she raised her eyebrows in question, "Harry Potter! We shared a compartment, chatted the whole way, I had no idea until we were almost here. Such a nice guy, so... unassuming." She wasn't even trying to hide her knowing smile, I pretended not to notice it.

"What were you expecting?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

"I don't know, but not that."

After my reunion with Grandma I had had very little time to run up to my quarters and throw on something more presentable, as a result I was just barely going to make it to the feast before the Sorting Ceremony started. I sprinted down the stairs and down the hall, already anticipating being the last Professor to arrive I was totally distracted thinking of the most inconspicuous way I could find my seat at the head table as I rounded the corner-

"Oof!" someone had come flying down the staircase I was running past and collided with me, our combined momentum sending us both skidding along the corridor coming to a stop in front of the Great Hall. It took me a moment to realize I was on my back and the tremendous weight on top of me was my assaulter, who seemed to be equally stunned. "What the.." and then I noticed the messy black hair.

_Oh... god..._

I looked up to a pair of green eyes that grew wide with recognition. In my entire life I have never forced my brain so hard to think of something to say.

"Well... fancy running into you here." I joked feebly, to no affect, he looked totally mortified and launched into a very flustered slew of apologies.

"I am truly-This is so- oh god, I am so sorry- totally my fault- I was running, going to be late, wasn't looking..." at that moment he looked down and realized he was still pinning me to the stone floor, seemed to experience something between a spasm and an electric shock, and launched back into a flurry of apologies (that were exponentially more flustered than before) while simultaneously disentangling himself and helping me to my feet. At this point I was practically vibrating with suppressed laughter.

"Please, stop apologising!" I laughed, putting my hands up to quell his final spurt of apologies, which he let out as stream of compressed air. He seemed to relax once he realized I was so genuinely amused by the scenario and chanced a bit a laughter himself. He smiled broadly at me and with a half-bow and extended arm, in an exaggerated "ladies first" gesture, ushered me into the Great Hall.

We took our places at the head table just as the Sorting Ceremony was beginning. I found myself seated next to a massive, bearded gentleman, who was deep in conversation with a short, squat wizard on his other side. Seated between them was a large grey dog who seemed to be totally absorbed in what was being said- then I realized-

"Richard! What are you doing here!" I hissed, unsure of the policy on dogs at the head table. All three of them turned to look at me, the two men seemed quite confused as to who I could be referring to, and Richard looked quite embarrassed that I had interrupted their conversation. The massive gentleman glanced down at Richard.

"Richard's his name, eh? I reckon he's yours then, found him out wandering the grounds, thought I'd look after him... just until someone came to claim him of course." He patted Rich between the ears, looking rather sad that someone had come forward to claim him, "It's a right smart dog you've got here, Miss... er, I don't reckon we've met before," he drew himself up proudly and extended his hand, "Rubeus Hagrid, groundskeeper and Professor of Care of Magical Creatures."

I took his hand, or rather, two of his fingers, and introduced myself, "Melinda McGonagall, History of Magic," his eyes glinted warmly at my surname and I had to smile. I had a feeling we would get a long very well. "I'm glad to hear this flea bag hasn't been bothering you." I teased as Richard, bored with the present conversation, had just begun vigorously and unceremoniously scratching himself behind his ear. The groundskeeper opened his mouth to reply but at that exact moment the Sorting Ceremony ended with thunderous applause, and my Grandmother stepped up to the podium.

She welcomed the students, made a few brief housekeeping announcements concerning some changes in school policies, and, though I prayed fervently that I would not be singled out, she introduced me as the new History of Magic teacher. There was a good deal more applause than I expected, I waved in response from my chair, resolute that I would not stand, but a nudge from Richard and a whispered "Go on!" from Harry Potter had me on my feet, inclining my head modestly for the recognition. The Headmistress had made no mention of the family connection in her introduction and I could sense the students trying to make out some resemblance in my features. I couldn't help but blush at the attention, but quickly became distracted as I was caught quite literally in the middle of a conversation between Mr. Potter and the groundskeeper, who, I learned, happened to be long time friends.

After dinner I hung behind to say goodnight to my Grandma and noticed out of the corner of my eye that Mr. Potter seemed to be hanging behind has well, though his motive was less clear. As I made to leave the hall, he followed suit, and I had to smile, it was just too obvious.

"Were you waiting for me, sir?" I teased, grinning.

"Why... yes, in fact I was. It's dangerous to be roaming the halls alone at night, someone might come barreling down a staircase without looking where he's going." He countered matter-of-factly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I laughed openly, not having expected him to engage me in this sort of witty banter.

"I see, yes, as long as my assaulter is walking _next _to me there is no risk of him propelling himself towards me at dangerous velocities." The impending grin tugged ever harder at the corners of his mouth.

"We must then conclude that you are only truly safe when we are in each other's company, and moving at a reasonable speed." he sighed with mock seriousness.

A retort was ready on my tongue but I realized, with a stab of guilt, that this was getting dangerously close to flirting, so I laughed instead and offered a vague "Perhaps." Thankfully, he read me well, and when we got to the bottom of the staircase to my quarters we exchanged perfectly platonic "good nights" and polite "see you tomorrows."

Just before going to sleep I sent a quick message to Jake letting him know that I was safe. I set my alarm and relaxed under a luscious goose-down comforter, willing my mind to be quiet so that I could be well-rested for my first class in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: I know you guys must hate me for my unpardonably long silences between chapters, and I do apologize. This type of writing is so far removed from what I do in real life I rarely have the luxury of time to devote to it- but it is a most cherished escape for me when I do. I hope that reading this story is even half as rewarding to you as the process of writing it is to me.

… _And both that morning equally lay_

_In leaves no step had trodden black._

_Oh, I marked the first for another day!_

_Yet knowing ho__w way leads __on to way_

_I doubted if I should ever come back._

Ch.3

I was awake long before my alarm the next morning. Remembering my Grandma's reproachful comment on my tomboyish-ness I spent a good deal of time in front of the mirror making sure my overall appearance was the right mix of professional and feminine, something I'd grown unaccustomed to doing working for years on archaeological digs.

Richard, who had come in late last night, jumped down from his place at the foot of the bed, yawned loudly and cocked his head, apparently quite amused, as he watched me contort my face in an inexperienced attempt at applying mascara.

"Stop judging me." I muttered while trying not to poke my eyes out. By the time I was satisfied with my reflection it was time for breakfast in the Great Hall.

The castle was awash with that glorious golden light reserved for a handful of mornings just on the cusp of autumn, and alive with the chatter of students enthusiastic for the first day of class, which we all know to be the second best day of the school year, second only to the last day of class, which is of course, the best day of the school year.

"Good morning, Professor Hagrid, is this seat taken?" I asked motioning to a seat next to the groundskeeper. He looked up, quite surprised.

"Please! Call me Hagrid, just Hagrid!" he exclaimed, laughing warmly, "And of course, sit yourself down!" He pulled out the chair for me, spent a few moments showering Richard with affection, and then proceeded to fill a plate with an enormous quantity of sausages. I was in the middle of wracking my brain for an arrangement of words that would show my gratitude for this gesture while politely declining it with an explanation that I am not normally in the habit of starting my day with eighteen sausages, when I realized, to my great relief, that the plate was for Richard, who was already thumping his tail against the floor in anticipation.

"Look at you making friends, Rich," I congratulated while spreading jam on toast for myself. Hagrid chuckled, beaming down at the dog as he inhaled the plate of sausages.

"I was thinking," Hagrid started cautiously, "if you don't mind, and if Richard here felt inclined, he might tag along with me out on the grounds today- unless of course you're going to be wanting him by your side- but I figured you might want him out of your hair while you're teaching anyway and he seemed eager yesterday to have a swim in the lake..." he tapered off a bit self consciously. Richard looked up at me imploringly with his big brown eyes.

"Of course!" I laughed, delighted that the two were bonding, "That's a great idea, thank you for suggesting it, I'm sure he'd much rather be outside exploring than stuck in class with me all day." I'm not sure who was more pleased with the prospect, man or dog, they wasted no time finishing their breakfast and positively skipped out of the hall together heading towards the grounds.

My first period that morning was a combined class of third year Gryffindors and Slytherins. _Great, just how I wanted to start my day, _I thought to myself sarcastically. I was well aware of the very heated and at times downright violent house rivalries at Hogwarts, but it was so different from my experience at Hemlock Academy that it was hard to relate. It just seemed so... primitive.

On my way to class I was quickly going over my notes and not paying attention to where I was going as I rounded a corner-

"Oh!" I collided with someone who also seemed to have been poring over his notes resulting in both of us dropping all of our books and parchment into a sad little heap on the floor. Upon recognizing each other though, we had to laugh.

"We really must stop meeting like this!" Harry demanded in mock seriousness, but his wide grin suggested that he quite enjoyed running into me even if it meant quite literally _running into me_. We laughed as we knelt to pick up our belongings, exchanging many "I think this must be yours"'s and "I believe that one is mine"'s before all the books and parchments were with their rightful owners. Seeing that we were both about to be late for our first class we said hasty goodbyes and went on our way.

"Oh! Melinda, I forgot to tell you," Harry said whipping back around, he stepped closer to me and lowered his voice, "you have a Malfoy in your first class this morning, don't let him get under your skin, alright? If he does, be sure to let me know." I felt gratitude for the heads up, but then I felt a slight fluttering of sorts to realize he was looking out for me and also to realize we were standing so close I could smell the soap he used in the shower that morning and feel his body heat- to counter the fluttering, instead of saying "thank you," like a normal person I said:

"How do you know my class schedule _and_ roster before me?" with a good bit of defensiveness.

"I have my spies. See you at dinner." he said smiling, not the least bit phased by my sudden lack of manners.

By time I finally arrived at my classroom everyone was, quiet, seated, and had their quills and parchment out. _Too good to be true..._ the voice in my head warned. Though perhaps they were genuinely excited to have a living breathing History teacher for once.

"Good morning, my name is Melinda McGonagall. I'm not sure how you are accustomed to this class being taught, it's possible I will go about things quite differently so I hope that everyone will keep an open mind. First things first, everyone please stand and move against the wall." For a moment the students looked at me as if I'd just asked them to swallow their desks, then looked at each other, "Come on guys we don't have all day, I just want to re-arrange the desks. Up, up!" Once they were safely against the walls I took out my wand and moved all of the desks into a circle, with one space open closest to the blackboard for my chair to fit. They all stared at me as if it was the first time they'd ever seen anyone do magic.

"Really guys, you're all in your third year, I am certain you've seen stranger things than that." That got a laugh out of them, but then I quickly put a lid on the amusement by adding, "Alright, sit down next to someone who is in a different house than you." There was grumbling, of course, but they did comply.

"Alright, now that we're settled, this is your assigned seat for the year," I blatantly ignored the groans, "I prefer this arrangement because most of our class time will be spent discussing with one another. I will assign readings and you will be graded on your participation in class discussion. Since you haven't read anything for today I'd like to start a discussion based on what you know about the History of Magic so far, can someone tell me- what is it that we study in this class?" I looked around, counted all the way to ten in my head, and finally added, "You are being graded on participation as of ten seconds ago." Two hands shot up. "Yes, Miss..."

"Moore, Rachel Moore." said an olive skinned girl with long wavy black hair, smiling shyly

"Miss Moore, please continue."

"Well, in this class so far we've studied all of the goblin rebellions up until the seventeenth century, the troll wars until the fifteenth century, some on the centaur-wizard relations in Europe during the thirteenth century, and-" she stopped, realizing that I'd put my hand up to signal that she'd given a sufficient answer, and looked embarrassed that she'd been cut off.

"Thank you Miss Moore, please forgive my interrupting but perhaps I should rephrase the question: why do we study the history of magic? What is the practical application of learning about things that happened in the past?"

The students were silent, glancing out of the corners of their eyes at each other to see if anyone was going to answer. A red haired boy took a deep breath and raised his hand. I nodded in his direction for him to speak.

"'History is a race between education and catastrophe.'" he quoted softly but with gravity. I tried to hide the surprise from my face but I'm sure I did not succeed.

"H. G. Wells, very good, Mr..."

"Weasley, Hugo Weasley."

"Mr. Weasley, very good, I would not expect most of you to be familiar with H. G. Wells, he was a famous muggle author-"

I was interrupted by a smug snort, I paused a moment, turning slightly in the direction of the offending sound but could not ascertain who it had come from. _Already?! _I thought. Rather than allow such childishness to interfere with my lesson I decided to ignore it and move on, not without a twinge of sadness, however, realizing that I would have to deal with this ignorant prejudice eventually, even with these youngsters.

"A famous muggle author from the late 19th, early 20th century," I hesitated a moment, "and if there was ever a quote that both muggle and wizard historians could heartily agree upon that would be it- five points to Gryffindor." I added, with a smile. Hugo blushed furiously as a brief murmur of congratulations on the first house points of the year rippled from his Gryffindor classmates. The Slytherines did not even attempt to hide their exasperation, which I chose to ignore.

"In this class we will study the history of the wizarding world both before and after it split from the muggle world. It is important to discuss how muggle history parallels magic history, in many cases they affect each other." I looked around to gauge their responses and let the concept sink in a bit. "You won't be graded specifically on your knowledge of muggle history but I will ask you to consider how the two are similar, some of you may be surprised to find we are more similar than different."

Another derisive snort- expecting it this time, I whipped my head around and caught the perpetrator, the sneer on his face giving him away. I raised my eyebrows at him, as I would to a colleague whose opinion I found amusingly inaccurate. To my dismay, instead of taking my gesture as an invitation to explain himself, he raised his eyebrows right back at _me_ in an invitation to explain _myself_.

_What a little brat_... I felt myself in danger of blushing; not a teacher by trade, I had to remind myself that these were children- not my colleagues. I collected myself,

"Is there something you would like to share with the class, Mr..?" I asked evenly.

"Malfoy, Scorpius Malfoy" he replied, evidently proud of his name, though, I wondered if it was that sort of pride born of a childhood of ridicule. _Ah_, _Malfoy_, I thought, remembering Harry's warning, I chose my next words carefully.

"Well then, Mr. Malfoy, I couldn't help but notice that you seem to have some doubts on the subject matter of this class, maybe it would be constructive to discuss your doubts with the rest of us." I suggested calmly. He made an exasperated sort of sound, opened his mouth with an expression of someone about to say something exceedingly clever, but realizing he wasn't actually ready to enter into this debate he closed his mouth and shrugged with insincere indifference. I continued to stare at him expectantly, which he had not bargained for, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"But we _are_ different from muggles, why should we pretend that we're not?" he finally stated defensively, looking around at his classmates for support. A handful of them nodded vigorously in agreement, while a few looked down at their desks, apparently offended but embarrassed to show it. Most of them though looked around as if wanting desperately to disagree with Malfoy but not knowing how; they looked up at me imploringly, this silent question in their eyes.

"That, Mr. Malfoy, is an interesting point- tell me, how are we different from muggles?" I asked, causing him to stare at me incredulously.

"But that's obvious," he laughed, "muggles can't do magic!" he rolled his eyes, eliciting a laugh from the Slytherines. I smiled, it was exactly what I was hoping he would say.

"So what does that mean, what can we do with our magic that muggles can't?" Malfoy was ready with an answer, "Someone else this time- yes- Mr...?"

"Thompson, Theodore Thompson." said the dark haired boy seated next to Malfoy, I nodded for him to continue, "we can get around on brooms and by apparating and other kinds of magic, and we can send messages by owl, and we learn loads of other spells to do all the things we need to do every day. Actually," he paused, chewing on his bottom lip pensively, "I don't know how muggles get through the day without magic." he finished earnestly.

"Yes, these are things we can do with magic, but these are _not_ things muggles can't do without magic." I replied kindly, he seemed perplexed. "Muggles," I continued, "get around just fine in cars and planes and every other manner of machines, they send messages instantly anywhere in the world through their mobile phones and computers, and have developed a civilization as advanced and civilized as ours by becoming skilled practitioners of another sort of magic- _technology."_ There was a strange stillness in the room as that sank in, cautiously, Hugo raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Weasly."

"How.." he paused, "how can muggle technology be like magic? They _make_ machines, magic already exists." I smiled warmly at him, _I love the socratic method_. Taking a quick glance at my watch I was astonished to see that class was almost over, I chose my words carefully.

"That is a most excellent point, sir. You are correct that magic already exists, but we must devise spells, and make wands, and learn which substances to mix for potions before we can actually _use_ magic. In the same way, electricity, the cornerstone of muggle technology, already exists. Muggles have learned to use electricity in much the same way that we use magic. Both cultures have always _channeled _energy to _create_ various things that are characteristics of human society as we know it, such as buildings, roads, books, art, etc., where we differ is simply in how we harness that energy."

I looked around at their faces as this new thought settled. For most of them this concept was entirely new and I could almost hear the gears in their brains straining against longstanding beliefs. For others I could see the glow of enlightenment spreading over their features; they had finally heard in words something they had previously only felt abstractly in their hearts. However, a handful of students (Malfoy chief among them) looked at me with expressions of shock and disgust, as though I had spoken outright heresy. My gaze calmly met Malfoy's and I was chilled by the spitefulness that I found there in his cold blue eyes; apparently he was not accustomed to having his feathers ruffled.

"Thank you for this lively discussion," I turned abruptly to the class, breaking Malfoy's vindictive gaze, "Please read the first three chapters of your textbook and come prepared to discuss on Wednesday. Class dismissed." The tension that had been hovering in the classroom dissipated with the characteristic scuffle and scramble of students packing up for their next class. I was never one to be intimidated, and _certainly_ not by some snot-nosed little brat, but even after two more classes that day I still could not shake the unsettling feeling that perhaps I had ruffled the wrong feathers.


End file.
